Memories
by Manchita1
Summary: This takes place after the events of Portal 2; Wheatley is desperate to find Chell and forge a friendship with her. While trying to grow closer, they both discover new friends and revel in their freedom from Aperture. But everything is not what it seems; people will stand in their way, and along the journey they will all recover buried memories...
1. Prologue

Eternity is such a long time.

Chell couldn't help but ponder this as she wandered through rows and rows of wheat, her arms folded across her chest. Here she was, free from Aperture, but so far from civilization. Most likely she would die alone, her corpse not found until she was unrecognizable, a pile of bones and dust. She had fought so hard, not stopping so that she could be out of the hell-hold.

And so, quite frankly, this was rather disappointing.

She wondered vaguely whether she would start to go insane. It had been ages since she had last seen another human; so long she could not even remember her last day of freedom. And being away from another conscious being did seem to be fodder for insanity.

Now she slept under the stars each night, with no one to admire them with her. She sat on her Companion Cube for rest, but it could not speak back to her. Speaking to it, she knew it could not hear her, much less reply. This was what pushed her on; the hope that she might be able to find someone of her own race.

So when she saw the small city in the distance, she thought she was beginning to crack.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she opened them once more to see the town still. Her eyes widened. This was impossible. She'd been hopelessly meandering for... God knew how long. Surely this was merely the result of some sort of hallucination. A mirage.

Nonetheless, the sight of it made her walk a little faster. Before she knew it she was running toward the wall that surrounded the city. Chances were that everyone would be dead. Odds were that even if some survived, they would show only hostility.

Fortunately for her, probability was very, very odd that day. There were some guards with guns. _Go ahead, shoot me. Or don't. Either way, I win_.

Stumbling toward them, she fell onto the ground, gasping for breath. "Whoa!" one of the guards shouted. From what she could see, he had a gas mask and- there was no mistake here- a massive machine gun. She was lifted and carried by the shoulder by someone she could not see, for she was only half-conscious. Now the full force of her weakness kicked in. She was extremely lightheaded and her entire body began to ache. How emaciated she must be; her meals the past few months had been pitiful! Berries and dead birds had barely satisfied her hunger.

Although her vision was somewhat blurry, she could see some of what surrounded her as she was carried to a small car and put inside. At this point, she didn't even care what was happening. If she were being taken to her death it didn't matter. Thankfully, however, she was taken to a small building, carried inside, and placed in a room with a bed. Some doctors and nurses came to give her food. To this day, Chell cannot remember what it tasted like; she was so famished that it didn't matter. To her it seemed the sweetest ambrosia in the world.

The doctors weighed her and then took her to the bed. "Go to sleep," one nurse told her. Chell had no qualms. She lay herself on the mattress and fell into a blissful rest.

* * *

If only she could know how he felt.

Spending ages in space had given him plenty of time to think about that. Slowly his battery drained; he could have preserved it by avoiding thought but, unfortunately, guilt was too powerful to avoid. By now the sound of Space's shouting and incessant babbling had been tuned out and he no longer heard anything but his own thoughts. Part of him wished to hear the noise again, so that he wouldn't have to listen to the sound of his conscience. _Traitor. Traitor. Traitor_. The sound echoed in his artificial brain.

Wheatley wondered if the feelings would drive him mad. It seemed as if they were already eating away at his sanity. There he would float, probably for all eternity, until he shut down and never get turned back on.

Eternity is an awfully long time.

A small message popped up in front of his view.

**10% battery remaining. Please charge.**

No place to charge here. Soon he would die.

He regained a bit of consciousness and gazed down at the Earth. He sincerely hoped she was alright. Well, not _Her_. But... her. The mute girl, slightly brain damaged...

_Traitor. Traitor. Traitor._ If he could commit suicide, he would. He would lose power without ever knowing forgiveness. Even if she had forgiven him by now- and that was highly improbable- he wouldn't hear it from her lips. And that had been all he wanted. After all he'd gone through, was that too much to ask?

**9% battery remaining.**

An agonizing experience. He knew the moment he would pass away. If only he could be back on Earth again. Maybe he could find her, maybe she would tell him that it was OK. And he would get to be happy with her, forever. Maybe he could live inside a phone, or a small cleaning device. She could carry him wherever she went. They would never mention the incident again.

The countdown continued and Wheatley desperately clung to his fantasy. They would be able to spend time together; he could help her solve the crossword puzzles in the newspaper. And he could show her how to make tea. Delicious tea. Maybe they could put him in an android body, and he could walk. What it would feel like to have legs! Completely independent from a management rail... He sighed as the number changed again. Seven... seven days a week, he could be with her. Or maybe five days he could work somewhere. Get a job. And he could earn money for her. She'd be very pleased to see him earning dough. The number changed. Had it sped up? Speed... He could run! If he had nice legs for running, he could run for sport! In the park! And he and the girl could chase pigeons together. Bloody birds... Five. And imagine food. He'd never tasted food before. Sandwiches sounded delicious. And so did cake. Four. Oh, if he worked in a restaurant, that would be lovely. Three. He could cook for her, maybe, she'd enjoy that. Two. And maybe they could build a friendship again...

Without warning his entire body began to shudder, and the panic that enveloped him drained the last of his power. The universe went black.


	2. Search and Re-search

Chell awoke to the sound of soft words. Opening her eyes, she observed that a nurse had arrived with her breakfast, but was talking to a doctor in his early fifties. The man had black hair, a neatly trimmed beard, a lab coat, and he carried a clipboard with him. She could not make out what they were saying from her distance, but she could see their lips moving in conversation. The man turned and saw her watching them, and upon noticing this, nudged the nurse. She turned and placed a tray across Chell's bed, small stilts supporting it.

"Here you are," she said. "I'm sure you're starving."

Chell smiled at her and nodded, grabbing a pancake on her tray and taking a massive bite. The nurse gave her a warm grin.

The doctor approached her and nodded in acknowledgement. "It's good to see you're awake. I'll be taking care of you while you recover from your ordeal. We're also going to test you for any sort of disease. We noticed you've come from... Aperture... and I'm sure you're aware that they are not supporters of safe science. We want to make sure you haven't been harmed by radioactive chemicals or anything of the sort."

"I hope you like the food," said the nurse, and she left.

Looking at the ground, the doctor said, "It's a wonder you're still alive, to be honest. I hope you can get plenty of rest. The other doctors and I have access to plenty of records and archives; so if you need anything to entertain yourself, or if you need any information, we'd be happy to help. Now, let me just take some of your blood for analysis, and I'll leave you in peace."

Chell held out her arm and the doctor took her blood; she couldn't help but think that it was about time to find a painless way of taking small samples of blood. Before the doctor left, however, Chell was able to manage, "W...wait."

He turned.

"You... have records from... Aperture?"

"Yes, we have some."

"Records on... the robots?"

The doctor thought for a moment, and she detected a fleeting expression of uneasiness. This, however, passed in no time. "I don't know, but I can check. Would you like me to?"

Chell nodded. The doctor's reply was also a nod, and he left.

Eating her breakfast, Chell thought about the machines she had left so long ago. If she could get information about them, maybe she could find the answer to a question that had frustrated her all throughout her exile. Why... why, in the name of Johnson, had the strange spherical AI called Wheatley turned on her? Was it in his nature? It had not seemed so, even when he was malevolent. Maybe there was a glitch in his programming. But Chell could assure herself that he was not truly evil if she saw it in his design.

After she finished her meal, the doctor returned with a folder. "I found this information about some of the robots," he told her. "There's more, but I didn't want to give you all of it so that you wouldn't run out and get bored."

Taking the folder gratefully, Chell opened it up. "I'll be here to check on you later in the day," the doctor told her, "but a nurse will come in periodically. Let her know if you need anything."

Chell nodded at him, and when he left, she looked at the files. There were different cores, some of which she recognized. She looked at Rick's design for a few moments, and Space Core's. She wasn't able to find Fact Core, but no one found him that significant anyway, especially not her. She even found GLaDOS's design, and those of a couple of robots she'd never seen before; one short and stout, the other tall and lithe. They were identified as Atlas and P-Body. Chell raised an eyebrow; she did not remember these two. But they weren't what she was looking for, so she put them aside. She went through many files, and towards the back she noticed a sticky note which read, "Last Resort." The handwriting, in red, seemed hurried and desperate. She flipped to the page on which the note was stuck.

There he was, the familiar, happy expression of a lifted bottom eyelid on his face. His blueprint read, "Wheatley [REDACTED], Intelligence Dampening Sphere." Chell was not fazed by the censoring of his last name. Aperture was a very secretive place. She took a look at the description. It read,

Genetic portion taken from an employee hired because of his stupidity. Purpose is to hinder the Genetic Lifeform and Disk Operating System with mental deficiency. Named after employee, Wheatley **[REDACTED]**. Personality: Friendly, Amusing, sociable. Unfortunately, if certain circuits rerouted, this AI might **[****REDACTED- ERROR RESOLVED]**.

Frowning, Chell looked on the back of the paper for more information. Nothing but a blank face greeted her. She threw the page aside in frustration. Why did they have to make things so difficult for her?

The good news was that she had not found anything suggesting that he was innately hostile, hateful, or power-hungry. But she needed more.

She spent a while longer looking at profiles of other robots and a few androids. When the nurse checked on her, she did her best to appear as if she were simply perusing for amusement. After a while of reading about each AI at least twice, she grew tired. Flipping through the pages of the folder to ensure that she had read everything, she sighed. She picked up the sticky note again. She thought about the words. _Last Resort_. Most likely Wheatley had been Aperture's last chance to drive GLaDOS up the wall with voices. Either he had failed, or had been removed for some other reason. She did not recall coming across his core when fighting GLaDOS the first time. And of course, the second time she had taken on a robot, she had been instructed to put cores on Wheatley, which gave her no more progress in her search for data. At least this gave her something to do. She finally decided it was time for her to stop looking in the folder for facts; she had found out all she could from it.

When she lifted the folder, however, she found another sheet of paper underneath it. She was taken aback. A letter from Cave Johnson, distributed to certain employees in Aperture. She understood that it would most likely be more amusing and ridiculous than it would be informing, but she decided that she had nothing better to do anyway. She read:

Cave Johnson here. Now, I'm sure you, as pioneers of science, like to know what's going on around here. And you're going to hear it whether you want to or not.

As you know, I'm pretty damn sick, and the doctors aren't quite sure how long old Johnson'll be able to last. Well, one of our lovely employees, Caroline, has pitched me a brilliant idea. Robots! Who doesn't like robots? I mean, you know, they're smart and about five times better than humans. Hah; you all suck. Now, Caroline has suggested the idea of a different kind of robot; one with human DNA. And this presents an opportunity to anyone of remote intelligence around here; especially geneticists and mechanical engineers. So I want the heads of those departments to come see me tomorrow at 7:00 AM, because I like to make you get up early. And if you want to sleep late, fine. You're fired. Cave Johnson, we're done here.

His signature was displayed at the bottom. Chell thought about it for a few moments. So, the woman who became GLaDOS suggested her creation? That was a bit of a nasty end; put to death by one's own idea. It sounded a bit like Frankenstein. Caroline had made all of it possible.

She supposed this folder must have belonged to an extremely organized Aperture employee, who kept everything. But to keep this letter seemed a bit different. Most likely Johnson was always giving his "lab boys" updates on Aperture's progress. Was this simply here because the folder was full of robots? Or was it more important?

Another small question remained, as well. Who had amassed this information? Did they have any more of it? Because if they did, she needed it.

Turning once again to Wheatley's blueprint, she looked at it with sadness. She could hear his voice in her head, as if he were sitting there with her.

_Oh, boy, is that ME? Blimey, I feel important, they kept my blueprint. Look at this stuff, awfully smart, can't believe they- well, of course they kept me, I'm a very advanced core. And look, I was their last hope! See how important I am? Can you read that? Or are you too brain damaged to read? Because you can't even say apple, might be a bit hard to read. My God, Aperture loves to redact things, don't they? I hope that's nothing important. Oh, error resolved, obviously nothing to worry about. I feel ridiculous for being a bit panicked there._

Part of Chell was happy to be inside. At night, she would no longer be subjected to sleeping under the light of the moon...

* * *

Wheatley's eye opened slowly and he blinked a few times. How was this... possible? He had died, hadn't he? His battery had drained. Where was he now?

"So... you're finally awake," said someone. But for some reason, he could not see them; everything was blurry.

Something- a kind of glass- was put in front of him and his vision cleared. A man was in front of him, adjusting the solid substance. "Theeeere you go," he said.

Rubbing his head with confusion, Wheatley observed the human. He wore jeans and a T-shirt, and Wheatley couldn't help but notice that the man seemed to be admiring some handiwork of his. But the man was looking at Wheatley, which was confusing.

"Did you... save me?" Wheatley asked.

The man nodded. "I found you lying in the grass. Your spherical body was beyond repair, so I had to put you in a new one."

"How did you know how to build a core?" he asked, shocked.

"I don't," replied the man. "But I do know how to build androids."

Taken aback, Wheatley looked down and noticed that he possessed a full humanoid body. He lifted his fingers and wiggled them, his eyes wide with awe. Looking at the clothing which covered his synthetic skin, he felt the fabric, and was thrilled by the information that went through his new nervous system. He was wearing a tie; in place of a knot, however, it had a small, round, blue light. The tie covered part of his white shirt; the lower half of his body was in jeans, and, wiggling his toes, he discovered that sneakers protected his feet.

Looking at the man with wonder, Wheatley said, "Thank you."

"It was no trouble. Trust me. Do your glasses work?"

Reaching up, Wheatley felt the glass that had been placed in front of his eyes. "Yes, they work fine."

At that moment the data registered in his brain. He was... back on Earth. He was back on his home planet. His eyes widening, Wheatley told the human, "Hey, are you out here alone or are there other humans around?"

"Technically, I'm alone," the man told him. "But there is a human settlement not far from here."

"Good, good! I'm looking for a girl!"

"Whoa, slow down! I think the human emotions are kicking in too strong!" laughed the man.

"No, a specific girl," Wheatley explained. "She wears an orange jumpsuit all the time, brownish-blackish hair, a bit loopy... She's from Aperture."

The man gave him a suspicious look. "Aperture?"

"Yeah, why?"

Holding his hand out, the man told him, "My name is Gordon, by the way. Aperture and this town... aren't exactly the best of friends."

Wheatley shook his hand. "Nice to meet you, Gordon. Are you from Black Mesa?"

"Well, my uncle was," Gordon said. "It might be a good idea not to tell anyone you're from Aperture, OK?"

"Why?"

"I told you, the two companies aren't fond of one another, and most people in the town nearby are big supporters of Black Mesa. Especially since the big war started." Then, with concern, Gordon asked, "How keen is your friend on Aperture?"

"Not very," Wheatley replied with a shrug. "She kind of hates it, actually."

"Well, that's good for her. Now, it's pretty early in the afternoon. Do you want to go see if she's in the settlement?"

Nodding enthusiastically, Wheatley sprang forward, then promptly fell over onto the carpet. "Uh... not quite used to these legs," he laughed awkwardly. "You know... balance. It's a bit difficult."

Gordon helped him up. "That's alright, you'll learn how to use them. It just takes practice. But for now, let's stick to walking. Is that OK?"

"Definitely," Wheatley agreed, brushing the dust from his shirt. He looked around at the small abode. "Did you... build this house?"

"I found it," was his reply. "I'm not quite sure what it's doing here, but it's nice."

"Why don't you live with the other humans?"

"They don't like me, because I used to build robots. They don't really trust robots, and this spurred a distrust of me. So I moved out here."

"Why don't they like robots?" Wheatley asked with curiosity.

"Because of what happened in Aperture, with the Genetic Lifeform and Disk Operating System."

"GLaDOS," murmured Wheatley quietly.

"You know her?"

"I've met her, but I don't know her; but my friend did. Can we try and find her now?"

Gordon chuckled. "Yes. Let's go and find your friend." He grabbed Wheatley's arm and was able to help him out the door. Sure enough, there was a vast field around them, with a small town not far away. Wheatley was assisted throughout the walk to the city, and when before they entered the city, Gordon took him aside.

"Hey, I know you're a nice guy-"

"Oh, thank you!" Wheatley exclaimed with a grin. How nice it was to have a friend again! "You're nice too!"

"-but you cannot tell anyone that you're a robot, except your friend. They don't know how nice you are and they could get scared of you. And people tend to... do very bad things... when they're scared."

"Like what?"

"They sometimes hurt others. That's really all you need to know."

Wheatley nodded; he was sure that Gordon had his heart in the right place. He wondered why the scientists at Aperture had always talked about the Black Mesa scientists with bitterness. He had lived with the illusion that scientists associated with Black Mesa were a greedy, thieving lot, who stole Aperture's ideas and got money from them. Gordon didn't seem to fit this description; he didn't even have horns, like Wheatley had thought. There were always exceptions, he supposed.

Entering the town, Wheatley noticed that Gordon seemed to attract looks of suspicion and hostility. He frowned; why would they be so mean to a man who had done nothing? It seemed unfair, and quite honestly, a bit stupid. And this was coming from the Intelligence Dampening Sphere, so that meant something.

"How long do you think she's been here?" asked Gordon.

"I have absolutely no idea. I was in space the whole time."

This earned him an odd look from Gordon. Nonetheless, they continued walking.

"We can go ask the hospital," Gordon offered. "They usually have records of this sort of thing. They probably took her in at some point since she came from Aperture. Who knows what all those chemicals and experiments did to her?"

This filled Wheatley with concern. Gordon made a good point; Chell had been in the facility for so long that she must have been exposed to all sorts of unstable elements. Not to mention the fact that GLaDOS fancied dangerous and obscure tests. And to make matters worse, Wheatley had heard something once about repulsion gel and human skeletons...

Approaching a short but wide building, Gordon knocked on the door. A man in a lab coat, whom Wheatley thought seemed awfully familiar, opened it. He nodded at Gordon and asked what his business was.

Wheatley followed and told him blatantly that they were looking for someone. "She wears an orange jumpsuit... doesn't usually speak either, won't even say the word apple. I figure she's a bit brain damaged."

The middle-aged man was a bit taken aback but told Wheatley that he had a patient of the sort, and that he would check on her in a moment. Ecstatic, Wheatley exclaimed, "Oh thank you! I don't know how I could- Oh, God, um, tell her it's someone named Wheatley! I've come a long way..." He hung his head as he trailed off.

Nodding grimly, but giving Wheatley a strange look, the man left them without a word. Wheatley shivered. "He seems a little creepy..."

"He's a sad man," explained Gordon. "That's all."

A few moments later the man came back. Refusing to look at them, he said, "She doesn't want to see you, I'm afraid."

In a small panic, Wheatley insisted, "But I have to see her! I've been waiting all this time, and obviously you humans don't live forever- eventually she'll die and I'll never get a chance to apologize!" Panting with anxiety, he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

"Calm down," the doctor told him. "She just needs some time to recover. Chances are that she'll forgive you once she's had a while to think."

Feeling a little better, Wheatley nodded. How much time would it take for her to forgive him? How many nights would he have to stay up before she told him that it was OK? Would he even be able to go through with all of this waiting, or would he crack and go crazy? Or, of course, he could just avoid all that and...

No, of course not. He shoved the suicidal thought aside. If he gave up now he would be taking for granted all the luck that had befallen him. After all, he had arrived on Earth, been rescued, and been put in an android body. And he had a new friend.

"Maybe we can come back tomorrow," Gordon told him. "But for now, let's leave your friend alone, to think."

Wheatley nodded with a small, solemn smile. The plan sounded good to him. It was nice to have someone trust in him again.

As long as Gordon never found out about his past, everything would be fine...


End file.
